


Because My One and Future

by LytynUponCerellia



Series: Arta and Merlin (Genderbent Universe) [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Gen, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-08-22 19:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8296666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LytynUponCerellia/pseuds/LytynUponCerellia
Summary: Merlin Emrys is a 24 year-old woman living in modern England, 2016, under her landlady, Gaia, as a medical student. But lately she's been experiencing strange and disturbing visions, dreams that pierce through like hidden memories, of a bold, blonde-haired woman wielding a sword, a white castle, a man with raven hair and a hood, a huge fierce dragon...she thinks she must be going mental until she meets the woman from her dreams: Arta Pendragon. The strangest thing is...her memories might be coming back; of Camelot, and the Once and Future Queen she served millennia ago reborn.





	1. Of Strange Dreams and Coffee Shops

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Thank you so much for taking the time to read this story. Just a heads-up, this is a complete genderbend, so ALL characters who were male in the original BBC series are now female for this narrative, and all females are now males. Just so we're clear. Also, their appearances may be slightly altered for this story. This also takes place in a modern continuity of the original series, where Merlin and Arthur (genderbent versions) have been reincarnated in this present-day world, but their memories might start to return...well, you'll just have to wait and see about that!  
> -M

Every time Merlin goes to sleep, the dreams return to her.

One jumbled collection after another, it gets so disorienting that she can barely even recall what happened in most of them after she wakes up.

The few images she does conserve in her mind comprise of this:

_A blonde woman with a bold face wearing armor and wielding a beautiful gold steel sword in the air…_

_A giant white castle, against a pale blue sky, red and gold flags waving in the wind…_

_A huge gray-green_ dragon _with glowing yellow eyes, wings like sails, and a booming voice…_

_A familiar white-haired old woman wearing a long red dress and holding a twisted staff…_

Her astonishingly bright eyes pierce through her own, and all at once, she’s back in her own bed again, twisted among the bed-covers.

“Merlin? That you?”

She can hear faintly, along with a few genteel knocks, and groans, brushing the dark hair off her face.

“Is everything alright?”

She attempts to get up out of the bed, but as mentioned before, the bed sheets have tangled around her like a net, and when she tries to hop out, she promptly trips and falls to the ground.

“Ow!”

“Merlin?”

She jumps up, having succeeded at getting the sheets off her, and rushes forwards to answer the door.

“Why, Merlin. You’re off to a late start this morning!” She’s greeted by the kind wrinkled face of her landlady, Gaia Wilson.

“Gaia!” she answers back, smiling. “It is a Saturday after all.”

The elderly lady puts one hand on her hip. “That may be true, but still, 11:30 is a tad of a lie-in, don’t you think?”

Merlin nods sheepishly. “I guess so. Won’t you come in?”

Gaia agrees, but also informs Merlin that she should probably wash up first.

Merlin complies with this request, and about 10 minutes later, she returns to the main room, where Gaia sits with a cup of tea beside the coffee table.

Merlin straightens her brown skirt, and sits down beside her.

Merlin grins cheekily at Gaia. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any biscuits along with you, have you?”

Gaia merely sighs, and after a mock-pleading face from her young ward, produces said biscuits, shaking her head.

“I suppose it’s only fair I let you have these. You’re rather thin. If I didn’t know you as well as I do, I’d be worried about you getting enough to eat.”

“Well, thanks very much, Gaia.” Merlin takes the cookies from her gleefully, starting on one at once.

“So how are your studies going?”

“Well, they’re not bad.” Merlin ponders over her biscuit. “Decent, I suppose. Can’t really complain, now can I?”

“And why is that?”

“I’m lucky enough to get into Court University. Father was worried I wouldn’t make it this far.”

“No,” Gaia corrects her. “When Hunor sent you to me all those years ago, it was because he wanted to give you a chance at a better school.”

“And a better life?” Merlin grins.

“That remains to be seen,” says Gaia mysteriously. “But for now, I advise you to just keep working hard on your studies.”

“You’re right, Gaia.” Merlin agreed after a moment’s thought. “That’s probably for the best.”

“And how are your dreams?”

The question catches Merlin a bit off-guard, although she suspected the old lady might ask her that at one point.

“Fine,” she answers quickly, looking down at the table.

“Merlin.” Gaia says quietly. “I know you well enough to tell when something is the matter. Now, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Merlin replies. “It’s just...they’ve been getting clearer, the images. I can still see that woman, and I don’t know why, but there’s something...about her, which I can’t quite explain, but I get this strange feeling whenever I think about her.”

“These dreams are recurring, are they not?”

“Yes,” Merlin stares off into the distance, not wanting to meet Gaia’s gaze. “Almost every night since I turned 24 years old.”

“And of what manner are these dreams? Nightmares?”

Merlin shakes her head. “No. They’re pretty much just jumbled up images most of the time, but sometimes...they’re more. Like a story, or a scene from a play.”

She looks up suddenly, a hint of panic in her voice. “Should I see a psychologist? I mean, nearly every night, there’s a _dragon_ speaking to me, and I have no idea why.”

Gaia thinks this over, pursing her lips.

“I think you should do what you think is best,” she says finally. “I trust your judgement, and you should as well. If these dreams are really bothering you so much, then maybe talking to someone else about them might not be such a bad idea.”

Merlin nods slowly. “...OK. Thank you, Gaia.”

“You’re welcome, Merlin.”

The rest of their time spent together consists of small talk, and the two of them chuckling over their tea and Gaia’s famously delicious biscuits.

In fact, by the time she cheerfully waves the elderly landlady from her room, the dreams seem to be much less concerning, and she gives them no further thought as she leaves her apartment.

Some fresh air seems like a good idea.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

The outside air is crisp, and Merlin is quickly reminded that winter will be coming quite soon to the city.

The leaves on the trees are already falling off, in little heaps on the ground all around her.

She pulls her coat a little tighter around herself, and tightens her favorite thick red scarf around her neck for more warmth.

Not many people are out that day, but she smiles affably at the people who are on her walk.

A few children are outside, no doubt enjoying the privilege of the weekend, and a few throw leaves at one another, all of them running and racing about, and laughing without a care in the world.

Merlin envies their carefree nature for a brief moment. She had never really had many friends at all in the small town where she grew up, Ealdor, and so had never really had the chance to play around like these kids were. She supposes it’s because she’s always been a bit of a misfit, no matter where she was. Gaia was one of the few people she trusted and counted as a true friend since she had first met her a few years ago, a clumsy teenager with half an idea about what they were doing, and where they were going.

She does have more friends now than when she was a child, however, and she is grateful for that. In the first year of university, she bumped into a tall young man with dark skin and hair, and a charming friendly smile on her way from exiting a lecture.

She’s struck by a feeling of familiarity, and can’t place the reason why.

“Sorry,” she apologized, brushing her hair from her eyes.

“It’s fine,” he said good-naturedly. “I think I’ve done that at least a few times by now. There’s just so many people, right?”

Merlin nods. “That’s definitely not far from the truth.”

“I’m Gwilym, but most people just call me Gwil.”

“Nice to meet you, Gwil. I’m Merlin.” They shake hands in a slightly awkward way, and they both laugh at the exchange. Merlin feels a slight tingle from the handshake, and gets the feeling of déjà-vu again, only stronger. Has she met this boy before? Where?

“Merlin, huh? That’s an unusual name.”

Merlin rolls her eyes. “Yeah. I do get that a lot.” She squints at him. “Sorry, but have we met before? I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere…”

“Uh, in class maybe?” Gwil jokes. “I think I was sitting in the row above you.”

“Maybe…”

“So what are you majoring in?” Gwil changes the subject from the awkward pause in conversation. “I’m in marketing.”

“I’m a biology major,” Merlin answers.

“Wow, that program? That’s tough.”

“Yeah, it is.” She grins. “But nothing I can’t handle.”

Gwil chuckles. “I don’t doubt it.”

As it turns out, Gwil works at the coffee shop just a few blocks down from the university, so they go there to catch a couple drinks.

Gwil is a very kind person, Merlin could tell already, and rather modest as well. He cares deeply about his family, his mother, and his younger sister, Elya. From his description, Merlin deduces that his family isn’t that well-off, so he and his sister getting a scholarship to Court University was something like a great blessing to the both of them, although they still have to work extremely hard to pay their loans off.

It’s very similar to what Merlin’s situation was like, and the two of them bond over that and their similar happy-go-lucky personalities.

By the end of that, the two of them are good friends, and Gwil becomes one of the people Merlin holds closest to her heart--but in a platonic way.

Even so, she still can’t quite shake the feeling that she’s known him for longer than that...but Gwil has repeatedly stated that he has never been to Ealdor, and Merlin really can’t place exactly when or where she might have known him from anyway.

Speaking of Gwilym, maybe she would go and visit him down at the shop, maybe grab a drink and a tart. Poor Gwil was probably still there, usually taking the earliest shifts until about late afternoon.

She felt a twinge of guilt at her so-called “late start” that morning, and resolves to try and sleep in less. Not likely that she would actually hold herself true to that promise though.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The shop is close to the university, so Merlin hops on the bus to get there. She’s too late for the first one, which drives away from the stop just as she makes it there, leaving her outstretched hand in thin air, so she decides to wait.  Finally, the second bus arrives, and she thanks the God of public transportation for that. She gets on, and settles into a seat, when a light flare from something shiny hits her eyes. She looks to see what it is, and the source of the flare is from the sunlight bouncing off a shiny black phone. She glances up to see the person holding the phone, just for a brief second--

She freezes. Time seems to stand perfectly still.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------

 

_What? Is it really...it can’t be!_

 

Fingers tapping on the screen, other hand holding on to the strap overhead. Fair skin, dark red jacket with silver lining...cascading dark blonde hair over broad shoulders...long-lashed blue eyes staring absent-mindedly down at her screen…

It _is_ really her, no mistake about it. It is the woman from Merlin’s dream, the woman who she couldn’t quite place, the woman she felt such a strong feeling towards…

Her mouth opens slightly. She wants to talk to her, but something holds her back.

She tries again. _Say something! Anything!_

She feels a sudden wetness down her cheek, and is bewildered.

Why is she _crying_ ? What is this... _overwhelming_ emotion? Sadness? How could she be so sad about a woman she doesn’t even _know_?

Joy? Relief?

_What is it?_

Whatever it is, she almost doesn’t even realize when her stop is coming up until the doors are opening. She gets up shakily from her seat, lurching over to the exit.

She realizes the woman is getting off at the same stop as her.

She almost laughs at the irony of this.

As it turns out, the two of them are heading to the same destination, just to top it all off.

What were the chances of that?

Why did she feel so strongly about this young woman?

What was it about her that makes her feel like she wants to cry and laugh at the same time?

She looks exactly like the same warrior woman from her dreams, but that could just be a freaky coincidence. It was just a dream, after all.

But something inexplicably tells her there’s something much more to it all.

 

_It’s...not just a dream?_

No, there’s something more there. Something...deep. Something strong.

As to what the _hell_ it is, Merlin has absolutely no idea whatsoever.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

She follows the woman down the street and regrets not getting out of the bus faster...it’s one of those awkward situations where one person trailing behind the other seems quite like a low-level stalker.

In fact, Merlin’s cursing herself so much while she crosses the third street, it only just registers in her mind that the woman has stopped abruptly, just a few meters away from the coffee shop’s entrance.

Merlin stares blankly at her and realizes that the woman has just asked her a question.

“Um.” she says stupidly. “Sorry?”

The woman repeats herself. “I asked if you were following me.” Although her tone is serious, Merlin swears the question isn’t actually.

“No.” she retorts. “Unless you’re expecting to be followed around?”

The woman lifts an eyebrow. “So this whole walk was just a coincidence, then?”

“Well, of course. Unless you think I actually enjoy following people to coffee shops?”

The woman’s lips twitch slightly as though she’s about to laugh.

“You can never be too careful.”

“I suppose. But honestly, I just really want a coffee.”

“And can you prove that?”

“Yeah, because I’m sure my unhealthy need for caffeine is a cause of suspicion.”

They stare each other down for a few moments, before the two of them finally give in and crack up.  The woman has a nice laugh: jovial, and deep. Friendly.

“Well, that’s one way to meet someone,” The woman states.

“Interrogating them over coffee? Definitely.”

They both chuckle again, and for some reason, Merlin feels a rush of pride at succeeding in getting the other woman to laugh again, like it’s some sort of accomplishment. She shakes her head quickly, banishing the thought. What is wrong with her?

“So what’s your name?”

“I’m Merlin.” She reaches out a hand to shake, but realizes the woman hasn’t really moved, so she tries to let her hand fall back down to her side as nonchalantly as possible.

Well, that was awkward.

 

Wait, has she done something wrong?

The woman’s blue eyes stare deeply into her own. She stares without speaking, yet Merlin can barely read her expression at all.

She can’t seem to bring herself to look away, not even for a second.

It’s like she’s trapped in the bright gaze of those big oceanic eyes.

At last the woman grins, a trace of cockiness in the expression, and Merlin relaxes.

Just before they enter the coffee shop, with the woman gesturing for Merlin to go first, she says,

“Hello, Merlin." Her slightly crooked grin grows wider, if possible.

"My name is Arta.”

 


	2. The Not-Date and The Princess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, school's been driving me quite crazy. The workload is not ideal.  
> But enough about me.  
> So here is Chapter 2, and I hope you enjoy it!  
> -M

Arta orders a large vanilla latte, and Merlin a medium mocha latte.

She gives Gwil a grin when he passes her her drink, and thanks him heartily.

Arta raises an eyebrow. “I think that man just winked at you.”

“Indeed.” Merlin shrugs, not seeing any reason to get into that just yet.

“Do you want to sit?” Arta gestures at the assortment of tables.

Merlin is horrified to find herself flushing slightly. “Uh…”

“Did you not want to have a chat?” Arta catches the uneasy expression.

“N-no! That would be great. It’s just...I didn’t know you wanted to have a chat is all.” Merlin ducks her head.

Arta gives her an incredulous look. “What, like I was just going to ditch you after a brief exchange, just like that?”

Merlin shrugs again. “Maybe?”

“Fair point.” Arta admits, making Merlin chuckle. “But seriously though, d’you want to find a table? My drink’s getting cold.”

“...Alright, go on then.” She relents.

They sit near the window, where rain is starting to pound down on the glass.

Merlin sighs. The weather looked dismal once again.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. It’s just...I’m not so fond of getting wet.” Merlin replies, cradling her coffee.

“Me neither.” Arta agrees adamantly.

“So, do you come down here often?” Merlin asks shyly.

“Sometimes…”

Their conversation continued for a good ten minutes more, and Merlin was both surprised and pleased to find they have more in common than she would have guessed. Merlin tells her she’s currently studying as a medical student, which gains her an impressed whistle. Arta in turn reveals she works for a financial company, but is strangely guarded about any other details concerning her job. They end up discussing a little of everything, from hobbies, interests, and other small talk, until Merlin feels very self-conscious and has to convince herself that she’s not on a date.

“So, about that guy…” Arta leans in after a minute, a trace of mischief in her eyes.

“What about him?” Merlin asks cautiously.

“Oh, nothing. It just seemed like you two were getting along rather well.”

“I know him, actually, outside of work.”

“Oh. So…” Arta hesitates visibly.

“So, what?”

“Are you two _together_ , or something?”

Merlin shakes her head abruptly. “No, not at all. He’s a good friend, that’s all.” With a pause she adds, “One of my best friends.”

“Well, he _is_ rather cute…” Arta smiles, that same self-assured, cocky smile. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know him either.”

Merlin flushed at the words. “I suppose you could.”

Of course Arta would be interested in Gwilym. A lot of girls were. He was a genuinely good-natured, intelligent person, always looking out for other people’s needs. He wasn’t bad-looking either.

Merlin had never been interested in him like _that_ , however.

But it was just her luck that Arta clearly was.

So it didn’t matter. Even if Merlin found Arta the slightest bit attractive--and nice, good to talk to, and mysterious, in a way-- it was obvious she was thinking about making the moves on Gwilym. It was pointless to even hope about such a sudden idea.

_What is wrong with me today? First more bizarre dreams, then a super late lie-in, then having a meltdown in front of a woman I only just met and being somehow attracted to her all at once?_

Maybe unconsciously, she took an abnormally large gulp of her coffee with no hesitation whatsoever.

She needed it.

Thankfully, Arta lets the conversation slide from Gwil to more normal subjects, only sneaking the occasional side-glance at him every once in awhile.

Ah, well. Good enough.

She lets herself get drawn back into their chat, and finds, once again, that she’s enjoying herself more than she could have expected.

It’s really quite a lovely time, and she finds herself feeling rather gloomy when Arta finally stands, and announces she has to leave for work.

“On a _Saturday_?” Merlin sadly fails to hide the indignant shock in her voice. “Really?”

Arta nods, and inexplicably her expression gets grimly dark all of a sudden.

“Don’t ask.”

Merlin holds up her hands in surrender, recognizing the warning. “Right, right. OK, got it.”

It’s clear that whatever Arta’s job is, she doesn’t feel at all comfortable talking about it.

“So…” Arta hesitates visibly, hands still resting on the back of her chair.

“So…” Merlin echoes, unsure of how to say goodbye.

Arta twists the ends of her long hair with her fingers. “Do you want to meet again…”

“--Tomorrow?” Merlin blurts out.

“--Next week?” Arta asks at exactly the same time.

They both chuckle awkwardly, Merlin now feeling somewhat embarrassed by her over-enthusiastic suggestion.

“Um, next week--next week sounds fine,” Merlin ducks her head.

“Alright...good.” Arta agrees. Merlin looks up, and they exchange grins with each other.

“Anyway, it was good to meet you... _Merlin_.” Arta smiles once, waves one hand in farewell, and leaves. The door to the coffee shop swings slowly shut behind her.

Merlin puts her hands on her forehead and lets out a long, relieved sigh, slouching forwards to rest her elbows on the table.

Thank God, that was over. She had never felt so... _self-conscious_ in her life.

She stirs the straw in her drink aimlessly, watching the dark substance swirl to the surface.

“So! Bad date, was it?” A friendly voice above her asks.

She looks up tiredly to see none other than Gwil standing above her, smiling.

“Hi, Gwil.” she greeted, returning the smile. “And no, it wasn’t a... _date_.”

“You sure about that?” he continued to tease, hopping down to sit in the chair opposite.

She rolls her eyes at him. “No. It really wasn’t. I don’t think she’s into other women.”

“Well,” Gwil starts, eyes gleaming. “You never know…”

“Oh, Gwil!” she can’t help but chuckle at his enthusiasm. “Stop it. Besides, it was _you_ she was sneaking glances at, and besides--” she looks down, becoming sombre. “--what would someone like that see in someone like...well, _me_?”

Gwil becomes more serious as well.

“Oh, Merlin.” He sighed, putting his hand down over hers, and squeezing slightly.

“You need to give yourself more credit. _You_ are a fantastic person, and a good friend. Don’t sell yourself short like that.”

She looks up, and sees only earnest in his dark eyes. “As usual, you always reach out for the good in people, Gwil.” She cracks a smile. “It’s definitely one of your most attractive qualities.”

“Hey, now,” His teasing tone came back. “I’ll have you know I have an _awful_ lot of attractive qualities.”

“I don’t doubt it.” she pats his hand. “Thanks, Gwilym.”

“Anytime.” he replies, and checks his watch. “Oh, I better get back to it. My break’s almost up.” He stands to leave. “See you later, Merlin.”  

“Don’t work yourself to death, Gwil,” Merlin calls after him as he walks away. He turns, gives her one last smile, pushes through the employee doors, and is gone.

Merlin is alone now. She finishes off the rest of her coffee, and deposits the empty cup into the trash.

And because sitting at a café table all by herself without the distraction of a caffeinated drink is not something she enjoys, she decides not long afterwards to leave as well.

She decides to go to the library, an old favorite haunt of hers she visits every now and then. The first few years she began living in the city, this was one of the places she frequented the most. She smiles as she thinks back to the girl she was when she first arrived: a naive, bright young thing completely in over her head stressing out about schoolwork and adjusting to her new life so far away from home. It was a good source of textbook knowledge and a nice, calm place to just relax whenever she didn’t want to return to her flat too soon. The Great Dragon Library.

Even the name itself sounded almost idyllic, and mysterious.

Merlin smiles at the thought, and walks inside.

The library has been recently expanded, taking up space from a new backroom where a child’s area had been set up.

Merlin finds herself envying the children again; the children’s “corner”, as they call it, is just that adorable. The walls have bright fall leaves in honor of the season emblazoned on them, and there are several little tables, cushions, and little chairs scattered around, all in brightly different colors.

She could just imagine how gleeful her childhood self would have been if she had been able to hang around in a place like that.

She shakes her head gently at the thought, dismissing it for another time. Merlin made her way among the high mahogany shelves into the adult section. She wandered down each row, eyeing one or two romantic novels, picking up a sci-fi book here and there before putting them down.

She sighs, running a hand through her hair and tucking it behind her left ear. She just didn’t really seem to know which book to pick, although she didn’t want to leave empty-handed. So she continues on her search, unwilling to give up just yet.

After a while, she finds herself feeling drawn to a particular section. She has a strong feeling again, something that has seemed to be happening a lot lately in the past day. She makes her way farther into the library, past the science fiction, past the horror novelisations, even past the psychological mysteries. Finally, she finds herself standing in front of a tall, dusty bookshelf, the majority filled with thick, hardcover books, most of which have the appearance of not having been read in several years. The mythology section.

Her hand reaches upwards, almost involuntarily, like it has a mind of its own, and traces the labels on the book spines. At this point, not even she is certain of what she is looking for. Her eyes dart across the titles, all arranged carefully in alphabetical order. _Asgardians. Bronze Age. Circe, The Odyssey. Dragons and Where to Find Them...Elemental Beings..._ and so on, and so on... _Isle of Death_ \--there.

She stops. She reaches up to slide out a thick book with a deep red cover, emblazoned with gold. She brushes away a thin layer of dust, and coughs at the cloud that appears when she does. She squints at the title, written in thin, dark script: _Legends of Albion_ , by...D.T.G.

She gasps as the cover of the book practically falls away in her hands when she tries to flip the book open, and swings her head around frantically, hoping no one saw this destruction.

Thankfully, she doesn’t see anyone in sight, and no one seems to care all that much about the mythology section, to be honest.

She sighs a little in relief, and gingerly replaces the cover back on the front. The book must have been extremely old, judging from the deep yellowing of the pages, and the state of its cover. But no matter. She had chosen this one, and this was the book she was going to bring back to her flat with her.

With that firmly decided, she turned, and walked to the machine to check out. It takes a minute to scramble around in her bag for her old library card, but she finds it in the end, secures the PIN code, and walks off with her new book.

She takes the bus back to her flat, and is irritated at herself for half-hoping that Arta might be on the same vehicle. She isn’t, of course, and Merlin scolds herself for her wistful thinking before heading up the stairs and entering her room. She puts her bag down in her room, and flings herself face-down on her bed, not bothering to change clothes.

She falls asleep almost immediately after closing her eyes.

It’s been a long day.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Down from the forest, across the green fields, and past the white-capped mountains walked the girl, a traveler’s bag slung across her shoulders, and her plain brown skirt swaying in the breeze. She was of small stature, and was rather thin, with thick dark hair. Her clothing was not rich, but her eyes were bright, and she carried an easy, carefree spirit about her.

She paused, looking up at the stone arch above her head. The sight nearly took her breath away, as she caught a full glimpse of a castle in the distance, white, and silver, majestic and looming against the sky.

_There it is!_

She had made it at last to Camelot, the famed kingdom.

With a grin, she continued on her way.

\----------

She was watching an execution.

The woman was being killed for...having magic. Sorcery. She felt a rush of fear and dread as she watched the executioner’s axe swing mercilessly down.

THUD.

Silence.

There was a terrible moan from one of the crowd. An old, disheveled man called threateningly to the top of the castle’s balcony, shouting a warning to a tall, gray-haired woman wearing a rich cloak and a tall crown on her head. Her eyes held a steely look; unflinching, as she met the man’s accusing gaze.

“... _A daughter_ for a daughter!”

There was a great burst of wind, and he vanished in a pile of rags.

\---------------------------------

She can feel time slow around her, feel power course through her.

There’s an old woman falling from an interior balcony, arms thrown up in the air.

A bed set across the room slides quickly towards her, and time resumes once more.

The woman falls perfectly on the bed, gasping.

But she gets up quickly, and starts demanding what she did, how she did it, where she learned...magic from.

She dodges the questions nervously, unsure of how to reply without getting into trouble.

“Who are you?” The elderly woman, her white hair pulled back in a bun demands at last, placing her hands on her hips.

“I have this letter.” She says apologetically, remembering, and scrambles around for the item in her traveler’s bag. When she finds it, she hands it over to the woman.

“I don't have my glasses.” The woman frowns.

“I’m Merlin,” She explains, hoping that the name will draw out some recognition. She’s not disappointed as the old woman’s face breaks out into a look of pleasant surprise.

“Hunor's daughter?”

“Yes!” She nods enthusiastically.

The woman suddenly frowns again. “But you're not meant to be here till Wednesday!”

She frowns as well, confused. “...It _is_ Wednesday.”

“Ah,” said the old woman, looking slightly embarrassed. “Right, then. You better put your bag in there.” She gestures to a room behind them.

“You- you won't say anything about, erm…” She gestures towards the place the woman had fallen just moments before.

The woman follows her gaze with a thoughtful look. “...No.”

She nods, and heads towards the room.

“Although, Merlin,” the woman calls her back, and she turns.

“I should say...thank you.”

\------------------------------------------------

_She murmurs softly, lying on her side._

\-------------------------------------------------

She was staring down a blonde-haired young woman wearing simple armor over a red tunic. The blonde woman smiled cockily at her, holding traces of nothing but pure vanity.

She could feel dislike rising up inside already just by the sight of her.

“I’m Merlin.” She held her hand out to shake.

“So I _don’t_ know you.” The woman said, ignoring the hand.

She hesitated. “...No.”

“And yet, you called me ‘ _friend_ ’.” Her lips curled.

“That was my mistake.”

“Yes, I think so.”

“I could never be friends with someone who could be such an ass.”

\---------------------------

_She tosses a little in her sleep, and rolls over. But she doesn’t wake up._

\--------------------------

“I’m Gwilym, but most people call me Gwil.” A dark-skinned boy with a kind face about her age approaches her. “I’m the Lord Morgaine’s servant.”

He’s dressed simply, as a commoner, just like her, whereas the only difference is that he isn’t currently covered in the messy remains of fruit and assorted vegetables.

“Right. I’m Merlin.” She reaches her hand out as far as she is comfortably capable, and they awkwardly shake hands. Both of them chuckle slightly at this exchange. There is something rather humorous about the situation, her being, after all, stuck inside the stocks in a somewhat undignified position.

“But most people just call me ‘idiot’.” She sighs.

“Oh, no.” The boy shakes his head quickly. “I saw what you did. It was brave.”

“It was stupid.” she admits. It had landed her in this sorry situation, hadn’t it?

“Well, I’m glad you walked away.” He says. “You weren’t going to beat her.”

She snorts. “Oh...I could beat her.”

“You think?” He looks pretty skeptical. “Because you don’t...really look the part.”

“Thanks.”

“No!” The boy shakes his head again, correcting himself. “No, I meant...Arta’s one of those real tough, save-the-world kind of women, and well, you...you don’t really look like that.”

She grins to herself, and motions for him to move closer.

He does so hesitantly, looking slightly confused.

She leans in close, and whispers dramatically: “I’m in disguise.”

Gwil jerks his head back in surprise, and they both end up laughing at that.

“Well, it’s great you stood up to her.” He reasserts.

“You think so?”

“Arta’s a bully, and everyone here thought you were a real hero.”

“Oh, yeah?” Merlin is pleasantly surprised by that.

Gwil nods firmly.

She looks up, and sees the children from earlier returning, clutching baskets of fresh produce.

“Oh, excuse me, Gwilym. But my fans are waiting.”

The boy laughs, and walks off as she braces herself for more of the gleeful onslaught.

\------------------------------------------------

A dark cave, illuminated only by a faint golden glow from the torch she holds.

And in front of her is a huge, scaly, winged gray-green creature with luminous golden eyes.

A dragon.

“How small you are for such a great destiny.” The majestic creature tilts its head in what seems to be amusement. Its voice is female, soothing, but strong.

“What do you mean?” she asks it, heart pounding. “What destiny?”

“Your gift, Merlin. It was given to you for a reason.”

“So there is a reason.” She murmurs to herself.

“Arta is the Once and Future Queen who will unite the land of Albion.” The dragon continues.

“Right.” she says, her tone skeptical. “I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“Everything. Without you, Arta will never succeed. Without you, there will be no Albion.”

“No.” she says in disbelief. “No, you’ve got this wrong.”

“There is no right or wrong, only what is and what isn't.” The dragon replies mysteriously, curling its lips in a smile.

“I'm serious!” She claims loudly. “If anyone wants to go and kill her, they can go ahead. In fact, I'll give them a hand.” She glares defiantly.

The dragon merely laughs at this. “None of us can choose our destiny, Merlin, and none of us can escape it.”

She shakes her head repeatedly. “No. No way. No. There must be another Arta because this one's an idiot.”

The dragon pauses, then concludes. “Perhaps it's your destiny to change that.”

She watches it fly off, ignoring her calls for it to come back and explain what it means.

She’s left frustrated, and possibly more confused than before.

\---------------------------------------------------

Now there is a dagger, a dagger being thrown across the room.

She grabs the tall, blonde by the shoulder, and forces her out of the way of harm. The weapon sinks harmlessly into the chair with a THUD.

“You saved my girl’s life. A debt must be repaid.” This came from the same older woman with the graying hair and tall crown, the one on the balcony.

The queen.

“You shall be rewarded a position in the royal household...you shall be Princess Arta's maidservant.”

“ _Mother_!” the blonde girl protests sharply at this announcement.

She and her savior turn away from each other with equal disgust.

This is going to be awful, she just knows it.

\-------------------------------------------------

“ _Merlin_!” The tall blonde young woman calls bossily. “Get over here!”

She is dressed rather regally in an ornate deep red gown with draping bell sleeves.

She has a rather smug expression on her face, like someone who is quite used to getting their way.

She’s reluctant, but she runs over anyway. “Yes, My Lady?”

She probably can’t quite hide the disdain in her expression, however. It was pretty hard when the person you were answering to is a spoiled prat.

.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The blonde girl puts her hands on her hips.

“...Um, walking?”

“‘ _Walking_ ’, I see,” she repeats, but with a definite hint of sarcasm. “Do you know what you _should_ be doing?”

“No, My Lady.” She has a bad feeling about this.

“ _This_.” And the blonde girl picks up a huge basket and drops it into her arms.

Startled, she lets out a squawk as the heavy basket weighs her down.

“That’ll do, _Merlin_.” the blonde girl struts away, smirking.

“ _Prat_!” She retorts under her breath, struggling under the great weight.

“Princess Arta, becoming _Queen_. That’ll be the day.” She mutters to herself, scooping the dirty clothing back in.

She marched down the stairs under the load, shaking her head.

“Some destiny indeed.”

\--------------------------

Merlin sits up in bed quickly, blinking away the drowsiness. Another strange dream. This time, it feels more vivid and stands out deeper in her mind, like something she has witnessed many times before. She feels another crippling sense of déjà-vu all over again.

_What is even happening?_

This time...it was _her_ in the dream too. As some sort of lowly _maid_ , no less.

She snorted a bit at the idea. Waiting on someone like that bossy princess definitely seemed like a bad dream to her.

... _Princess_ Arta?

Great, it was bad enough that she made such an awkward first meeting with the woman, now she had to make up some weird fantasy about her being a princess _as well_?

She had only just met the woman yesterday, for God’s sake!

 _But that’s not all..._ a little voice whispered insistently in her mind. _You’ve been having dreams about her long before you even ran into her on the bus._

She could feel her cheeks go hot as she flushed. This was stupid. This was so incredibly, quite frankly, superciliously stupid.

Wait.

 _Superciliously_?

Now where did _that_ come from?

She’s starting to become increasingly convinced she belongs in a mental hospital at this point.

OK, just because she may have found Arta... _slightly_ attractive yesterday, did not mean she was going to make up strange fantasies about her playing some sort of maidservant to Arta’s uppity princess.

She groans, shoving her head back into her pillow.

Clearly, she was most likely going insane.

But if that was the case, then why did she feel like all she had seen was so…

_familiar?_

The dragon’s voice comes back to her, like an echo in her mind.

“ _Without you, there will be no Albion_.”

Albion...Albion. Where had she seen that word before?

Wait. Hang on. Wasn’t that--?

She throws the covers off, and rummages around in her bag, which is on the floor from where she left it earlier.

There! She carefully picks up the library book she had picked.

_The Legends of Albion_

_By D.T.G._

“Now, this is a long shot, but maybe I’ll find some answers in here,” she reasons aloud.

“Well, here goes.”

And she flips open to the first page, and reads the top.

The book looks like it’s been handwritten, which is odd.

The top of the page is very simple, just one word.

_Ealdor._

 

 


	3. Connections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry! I should try to update faster, but y'know. Time is not always on a writer's side.   
> But here it is!  
> -M

“I don’t know what to tell you, Gaia.” She shrugs, sipping at her tea.

The old woman merely gives her a dry look for this uninformative response, raising her eyebrows. 

“Well if you can’t tell me what it is that is bothering you, there isn’t much I can do to help you, Merlin.” 

“I know, I know,” she sighs, scratching her head. 

“Is it the dreams again?” 

Merlin hesitates, and Gaia immediately catches on. 

“Like I’ve suggested before, Merlin, if they’re getting worse, it might help to discuss them with someone--” 

“It’s not like that,” Merlin interrupts, cutting her off. “It’s...difficult to explain.” 

“In what way?” Gaia persists. 

She looks up, and sees nothing but concern in the old landlady’s eyes. 

“It’s...different somehow. Believe me, Gaia, I don’t know what’s going on anymore than you do. All I know is that whatever these... _ visions _ are, they feel almost...familiar.” Merlin takes another sip of tea. 

“But they all come from some sort of unique standpoint. They’re like…” She hesitates again, unwilling to say the specific word which would sum it all up. 

“Like…” Gaia gestures for her to continue.

“Like...memories.” 

“Memories?” The old woman echoed, a trace of disbelief in her voice. Her aunt looks confused by the comparison, and Merlin can hardly blame her. 

“There’s also...this book,” she adds. “It’s mad. There’s a whole section on Ealdor.”

“What does it say about it?” 

“Just a detailed description, not much else. But it almost feels like the author was actually from there...centuries ago.” 

“That’s not too much of a surprise,” Gaia reasons. “Ealdor may be small, but it has been steeped in history for much longer than most know.” 

“I suppose,” Merlin agreed. “I just find it a strange coincidence that this particular book, which is meant to be about this ‘Albion’ place starts off with  _ Ealdor _ of all places.” 

Gaia shrugs, and once again, Merlin really can’t blame her. She can’t come up with a decent answer either.

“How far did you read into this book?” 

“Not far,” Merlin admits. Then, sheepishly, “It was late, and I have papers due tomorrow.” 

Gaia gives her another dry look, and Merlin shrugs and smiles helplessly. 

So she’s a bit of a procrastinator. Not one of her best qualities. 

Merlin doesn’t end up reading more of the book for the next few days. She finds she’s busy enough as it is, running around desperately trying to get all her papers sorted out and handed in on time.

So it’s really no wonder that by the time she even remembers about her “research”, it is already Saturday, and she has a date. 

Wait,  _ no _ . NOT a date. 

She really needed to get it together. 

* * *

 

The morning starts off like any other: Merlin sleeps in, gets chided by Gaia, and has biscuits for a late breakfast. But this time, she actually  _ rushes _ out the door to catch the bus. 

She has no desire whatsoever to be late. 

Soon she’s waiting in the café, where Gwil is smirking much too knowingly at her, while at the register. She rolls her eyes resolutely at him to let him know she is not impressed by this. 

His smirk only grows wider in return. 

She doesn’t even realize how nervous she is until the people at the table next to her are giving her strange looks. She notices she has been absentmindedly tapping her fingers on the table for the last five minutes. She stops at once, smiling sheepishly at them until they turn away. 

What if Arta doesn’t show up? Was she serious about wanting to meet again? Maybe she was just joking, and thought Merlin looked gullible enough to turn up anyways. 

Well, she had her there. 

Merlin  _ would _ have been trusting enough to come to the café regardless of the circumstances. 

She sips on her tea, the cup warming her fingers. She didn’t feel like coffee today. 

She hopes she doesn’t look underdressed--or overdressed, for that matter. 

She’s wearing a simple short blue dress over black tights, along with a thin red scarf--one of her favorite accessories she had received as a present a long time ago. 

Her brown fall coat hangs on the chair behind her back. 

She watches the door anxiously, not even sure herself why she was so nervous. 

Arta must have made more of an impression on her last week than she had thought. 

About a half hour passes, with Merlin checking the clock every few minutes or so. She’s about to give up hope and just go home, when she catches sight of long blonde hair in the entrance. 

The door jingles, and someone walks in. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” Arta flashes her that crooked grin. “I made you wait, didn’t I?” 

She removes her coat and sits down opposite Merlin. She’s wearing a deep red sweater over a cream skirt, and Merlin is immediately relieved that she’s dressed about as casually as she herself is. 

“It’s fine,” Merlin says automatically. “It wasn’t long. Only...half an hour.” 

Arta frowns. “‘Half an hour’? Merlin, that’s not such a short time.” 

“It’s all fine,” Merlin shrugs, not wanting her to be concerned. 

“Sorry.” Arta says quickly, and she really does sound sorry. “I had no idea, really. I was...working.” 

“Again?” Merlin raises her eyebrows. 

Arta nods, but the look on her face once again dissuades Merlin from asking anything more about it. 

Arta goes up to order, and Merlin swears she chats with Gwil for a decent while before returning to their table. 

Merlin can’t keep the sinking feeling from entering her chest as she watches Arta talk with Gwil so animatedly, so enthusiastically. 

She tries to convince herself that it doesn’t matter, that she doesn’t care about that. 

At least Arta did show up. And she was able to talk with her, get to know her a bit better. 

Arta sits back down and leans forwards, eyes sparkling. “So. How have you been, Ms. Medical Student?” 

Merlin groans dramatically, and goes into details about how deeply stressing school is. 

Arta listens intently, and chuckles at all the right moments, her eyes hardly ever leaving Merlin’s. 

Merlin feels a swell of inexplicable pride and warmth just by looking at her. Besides Gaia, or even Gwil, no one has listened to her chatter on like that in a long while. 

Arta goes on to regale her own shortcomings that week, most of which seem to involve various gossip about a couple of her friends, Leona and Gwaine, and how she and Leona are convinced that Gwaine should be going after this new employee called Perci. 

“A woman?” Merlin wishes her voice didn’t sound half as incredulous. 

Arta nods, apparently unfazed. “Yeah. Leona and I could have sworn Gwaine would have followed her around all day if it hadn’t been for various meetings.” 

She pulls a slight face at the word “meetings”, but doesn’t go into much more detail there. 

Merlin somehow feels relieved at this story in particular. 

So Arta apparently doesn’t care about relationship...restrictions. She seems perfectly at ease with one of her female friends making the moves on another woman. 

Merlin can’t help but feel happy at this thought. 

They talk some more, and Merlin learns that Arta has a younger half-brother, who lives abroad. 

“In the States,” she says, and Merlin is sure she can actually hear a note of envy. “In California. I’ve always wanted to go there.” 

“Maybe someday you can,” Merlin suggests. And before she can think before speaking, “And you can take me with you.”

Luckily for her, Arta merely laughs at this, and they both crack up. “Maybe I will,” Arta promises, grinning. “I could use someone to take care of me.” 

The idea makes Merlin blush, although something else about this statement strikes a different chord in the back of her mind. 

_ Like taking care of a Princess... _

“Merlin?” Arta asks. She snaps her fingers in front of her face. “Merlin!”

“Huh?” Merlin snaps out of her temporary daze. “What?” 

Arta shakes her head in exasperation. “You blanked out on me for a second there.” 

“Sorry.” Merlin ducks her head immediately. 

“Don’t be.” Arta shakes her head, chuckling. “Just wanted to make sure you still knew where you were.”

“How generous.” Merlin says with mock-enthusiasm. 

“Very.” Arta replies, grinning. 

They stay late once again, until once again, Arta has to leave. They make plans for the next week as well, and Merlin has to keep the excitement for this off her face. 

“Have fun!” Merlin calls behind her. 

Arta turns back and grimaces jokingly. “I definitely won’t.” 

Then she’s gone, but Merlin still feels her heart fluttering, and the heat in her cheeks. 

“That doesn’t look like someone who wasn’t on a date,” Gwil teases, dropping into the seat next to her. 

Merlin smirks. “Don’t you have work to do, Gwil?” 

He waves a hand. “They can get along without me for a few. I’ll be back soon enough.” 

“She talked to you though.” Merlin states. 

“Yes, she did.” He replies earnestly. “She seems like...a nice person.” 

“Yeah,” Merlin says, a little gloomily. “She is.” 

“Oh, come on, Merl.” He nudges her playfully. “Please don’t make that face. I  _ know _ you already like her.” 

“Do not,” Merlin retorts, but she’s answered far too quickly, and Gwil knows it. 

“Right.” He pretends to nod seriously. “And you’re not blushing right now either.” 

“I am  _ not _ !” she swats at his arm, but she’s already laughing, and soon they’re both set off. 

“Well, I have to get going.” Gwil says, and gets up. 

“Talk to you later!” she calls after him, and he’s gone. 

Merlin sneaks a quick glance in the window surface before she takes her leave as well, and is relieved to see that she is most definitely  _ not _ blushing. 

Her cheeks are just cold, that’s all. 

* * *

 

It’s a long ride home, and all Merlin wants to do is curl up in bed and nap, but she remembers that she still has a very old, particular book she’s been meaning to take another look at. 

Besides, if she napped, there was no telling what she would see this time. 

She pulls off her boots quickly and goes into her room, grabbing a biscuit for good measure as she pulls out the book. 

The next section’s word isn’t as immediately jolting as  _ Ealdor _ , but there is something very, very familiar about it nonetheless. 

_ Camelot.  _

She flips it open. 

_ Long ago, a newly-crowned young Queen was to marry. Her heart was full of joy, as  she was deeply in love with a young man, who was fair of face and kind in spirit.  _

_ His name was Ygraine.  _

_ Soon, they were ready to have a child, but things did not go as according to plan. The young Queen could not conceive. But the Kingdom was in desperate need of an heir to the throne. Without other options, the young couple had to resort to a different source: magic.  _

_ But the price they would pay for this use was more than they could have ever imagined… _


	4. Arta's Pondering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!  
> -M

Arta doesn’t remember much about her father.

And by ‘not much’, she really means _not at all_.

Over the years, all the information she had received had always sounded like empty facts, like an autobiography written for some celebrity or someone she didn’t know. But she still clung on to these pieces like a lifeline, repeating each one to herself until they were solidly engraved in her mind.

Her father’s name was Ygraine. Ygraine de Bois. He was a businessman from London, and had come from a family of politicians. He had two sisters: Trista and Agravaine. He had met and fallen in love with her mother, Uthern, when they were very young. He had died in a freak automobile accident right after she had been born.

That was it. That was the bulk of all she had been told before.

It was extremely frustrating, and the lack of any more context made her feel hollow. But it couldn’t really be helped.  

For one thing, her mother never spoke of him. It was as though such a person had never existed in the first place.

In her head, she often tried to picture what he must have been like. Perhaps she took after him in her own appearance. She didn’t really know. She had no photographs to remember him by, and like _hell_ was she ever going to muster up enough courage to ask her mother if she had any herself.

The only time she had really heard mention of her father other than the same old facts, was when she was seventeen, and had just graduated high school as valedictorian. Her mother had been proud, but there was something distinctly different about this pride. It was to be expected, after all, since Uthern had never permitted Arta to receive any grades lower than 85%, but still. Something was off.

“Your father...would have been proud.” Uthern had murmured, looking off into the distance as she patted Arta on the shoulder.

“He was valedictorian of his class as well.”

Arta had looked up quickly in surprise, but the moment was fleeting, and Uthern was soon back to her brisk, orderly self. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

Arta smiled and nodded, but deep down, she knew.

She had never been one for academics.

* * *

 

So it was no wonder how she’s stuck working for her mother’s company now. Pendragon Incorporated was undeniably a fine company, she admits, but...she doesn’t quite agree with the way it’s currently being run. She would never share this opinion aloud, and certainly not to her mother, but that’s how she really feels. She respects her mother more than nearly anyone else, and would do anything in her power to make her proud. But she doesn’t like the way Pendragon Inc. is now.

It could be better.

It _should_ be better.

But it is not. That’s just the way it is.

And so, Arta mostly dreads having to work there every day. She only gets Saturdays off, well...for half the day at least. The schedule is frankly ridiculous, and if she could help it, she would change it immediately.

But she can’t. Her mother overrules her as head of the company, and so Arta is left to work under her strict supervision. Uthern practically rules the company with an iron fist, and as much as Arta doesn’t like to admit it, some (a lot of) of her co-workers...are jerks.

The problem is that they never bother her, because she’s the daughter of the CEO. They just act like complete douchebags to everyone else.

Not everyone is a bully, at least.

Arta does have people she is comfortable with, like her two colleagues Leona and Gwaine. And the new employee Perci doesn’t seem half-bad either, just a bit quiet.

Leona is a stern rule-follower, but isn’t quite as uptight as other employees are. She does like to have a good laugh every once in awhile.

Gwaine, however...oh, how did she even begin to describe _Gwaine_?

Gwaine was, quite frankly, a party animal. Honestly, Arta found herself wondering far too often how someone like her had ever decided to come and work for a high-class old-school corporation like Pendragon Inc.

“I did it on a dare.” Gwaine claims stubbornly, whenever she asks. “A few rounds of quality drinks, and I’d be ready to take on the world.”

“Or sleeping it off the next day,” Leona snarks as she walks past.

“Really, though, princess.” Gwaine leans in towards Arta, a twisted smirk on her face. “The question I should be asking is why are _you_ here?”

The question makes Arta uncomfortable, and she merely swats Gwaine with a rolled-up magazine before turning back to her work.

* * *

 

It’s another added pressure to her life. The fact that she’s the sole heir and daughter of the CEO.

Pendragon Inc. had expanded dramatically over the last few years, and now Arta even has certain newspapers following her around, prying about her own daily life, whether inside or outside of work. She’s managed to find ways to shake them off for the time being, but the fact that the name Pendragon seems like such a big deal stays with her.

So _surely_ she really couldn’t be blamed for being aggressive with Merlin those couple weeks ago.

She had not realized that the other woman had actually been an innocent bystander, not a nosy reporter.

All she knew was that she had followed her resolutely all the way down the street, and up until they were about to go into the coffee shop.

Arta would never admit it, but she had been extremely embarrassed and flustered when it had turned out she had confronted a complete stranger innocent of being affiliated with any news publications.

But it had turned out well, better than she had hoped. She had even got round to chatting with her, and Merlin...she wasn’t so bad. She seemed a little on the shy side, but Arta didn’t mind. In fact, it had been refreshing to talk with someone who didn’t know her outside of the company. Maybe that was why Arta had felt the urge to meet up with her the next week, and the week after. It was nice having someone to talk to, even if she really wanted to get to know that handsome guy at the register a bit more.

Although...now that she thinks about it, there’s just something strange about Merlin she can’t quite figure out. It’s like...she could have sworn she had met her somewhere before. But that’s unlikely. She’s sure she would remember ever bumping into someone like her.

Merlin did seem nice, though. Like someone she wouldn’t mind becoming friends with. She was especially grateful for how gracious Merlin had been about the whole ‘being late’ thing, which was because of an extremely arduous meeting which ran on for far longer than it should have. Yet another reason why she loathed working for Pendragon Inc. The majority of the advisors there did not seem to understand the meaning of “we’re finished here”.

But not too big a loss. She had still had her coffee, and she and Merlin had had a decent talk.

Now, if only she could figure out how to politely ask for that coffee boy-- _Gwilym’s_ number...

Although she deflates slightly as she remembers that Uthern would most likely disapprove of this interest.

Even though she is a legal adult and fully capable of taking care of herself, her mother still has the power to govern her life.

She still feels as though her mother must have her way with anything and everything, whether it be concerning her own life, or that of Arta's.

Arta shakes her head quickly, and pulls papers in closer to her. She's not being paid to think, and she certainly isn't being paid to philosophize about her private life.

She gets back to work.


End file.
